The Nicest Guy
Chapter 3
Keith smiled to himself as he carried the paper sack with Melissa’s last few belongings into his workroom, or sometimes his playroom as he liked to think of it.
As he began examining the contents of her purse he thought back on his good fortune. A few months ago he’d found an unusual crystal in an antique shop, and it had forever altered his life. It had been in a small but elaborate wooden box, with one word carved into the lid. Control.
He’d been drawn to it, knew he had to have it. It had been waiting for him, just for him. It was expensive, but he paid for it without hesitation. Once he held it in his hands, he’d felt it speak to him, not so much in words, but in images and feelings. It spoke to him of power, of wealth, of wishes come true.
It asked a steep price, his immortal soul, but in return, it promised him that as long as he lived he would never age, never fall prey to disease or illness. It was an easy decision. What use did he have for a soul anyway?
Once he’d paid the price he’d discovered another perk. He no longer had a conscience. He was free from any guilt. All of his basest desires no longer filled him with shame. He was a free man, able to act out his twisted fantasies without any empathy whatsoever. No regret, no remorse.
He’d always had fantasies of control, of inflicting pain, making his mark, and he could now give those fantasies free rein.
At first, he’d gone completely wild. He’d never found proof that Veronica had cheated on him, but that didn’t matter. He knew she had, even though she denied it even to this day, and now he could act on it. She’d borne the brunt of his years of pent-up anger and sexual frustration driven by both his need for and his abject loathing of, all women.
He hated them, but he also craved them, wanted them, and their control over his thoughts and feelings made him enraged. Even now he could feel his muscles tightening, readying themselves to unleash his rage.
He took some deep breaths and calmed down. He would take Veronica to bed tonight and vent his frustrations on her again. She was his primary outlet. She was broken, inside and out, and he used her, rough and hard. He loved the feel of her scarred flesh in his teeth, the taste of her blood as it ran into his mouth, the screams of agony as he let his primal beast out to play.
He shuddered. That was true power. That was the power the crystal had promised him, and it had delivered.
He returned his attention to the purse, pouring its contents out onto the stainless steel counter. A heavy thunk and a metallic rattle drew his attention. He sifted through the debris and found the source. His blood ran cold.
In his hand was a very dangerous-looking stun gun. Heavy, and cold, with dangerous metal prongs on one end. He pressed the button experimentally and almost jumped when the electricity popped and crackled, arcing between the prongs. He set it gingerly to the side and searched again, this time pulling out a sturdy pair of handcuffs. He examined them closely. These looked like they were professional grade, not something you’d pick up at a novelty or cheap adult shop.
He set the handcuffs next to the stun gun and just stared at them, considering.
Were these things she always carried with her? The stun gun for protection? The cuffs for some kinky sex with her girlfriend? It worried him a little. She hadn’t seemed like the kinky type. Her resistance to using the nipple clamps and butt plug had shown genuine discomfort.
But if that wasn’t it, then what was it? Why would she have handcuffs like these with her, unless… A spike of fear hit him, and he began frantically digging, searching for ID, or a badge. The thought that she might be law enforcement drove him as he frantically discarded bits and pieces. If she was an undercover cop, this could get very bad, very fast.
He reached the end. Nothing. But he’d explicitly told her to leave all ID behind, and with the power of the crystal behind it, she would have followed that command exactly, no deviation, no matter who she was or what ID she’d carried.
So even if she was law enforcement, there was nothing here to indicate it. Except for those cuffs, which he hadn’t known about and wouldn’t have thought to tell her to leave behind.
Another thought struck him, and he began tearing the purse apart, ripping the seams, searching for a microphone or tracking device. He found nothing, then turned to the other contents and began ripping them apart as well. He grabbed a hammer and a screwdriver and didn’t stop until every single thing in front of him had been demolished.
Nothing at all. He eyed the stun gun. It was the only thing left that would be large enough to contain anything. He wasn’t sure if he could get it open safely without shocking himself and it made him nervous, but he had to know.
Setting aside the hammer, he began carefully undoing the screws with the screwdriver. He then slowly and very gingerly began lifting off the outer casing. He had to pause for a moment to wipe sweat from his brow. It would be pathetic to come this far and then accidentally electrocute himself on a glorified battery.
He breathed deeply and laughed nervously. “You’re getting paranoid”, he chastised himself. “Your instructions were airtight. There is no way she could have circumvented them.”
Still, the hair on his neck was standing on end. His paranoia… No, his instincts had been on high alert lately. He was assuredly in danger, he just had to find the source.
He focused again on his task and lifted the lid aside. He froze. There was an electronic device haphazardly wired into the battery and then jammed into the case. He ripped it out and saw a subtle red light go out.
He held it close and examined it. He could see no discerning marks, but it clearly wasn’t part of the stun gun. The circuit board looked expensive and had several microchips on it, something a stun gun would not need.
Whatever it was he now knew his paranoia hadn’t been unfounded. This was proof that he was being hunted and that it was time to leave, and start over somewhere new. He spun around to run, to get his slaves and his ‘go bag’ but found himself staring down the barrel of a very large gun.
“It’s over.” A female voice said as he heard the click of a trigger. His mouth was open, the command to stop almost on his lips, but the bullet arrived first.